


(the war is over) and we are beginning

by wordswithdragons



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, no real slowburn but we pine like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithdragons/pseuds/wordswithdragons
Summary: Janai doesn’t know much of peace. Neither does Amaya. But maybe, with each other’s help, they could learn.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Briefly mentioned callum/rayla
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145





	(the war is over) and we are beginning

**Author's Note:**

> something i wrote for the tdpholidayexchange back in december that i decided i should really upload here, too! hope you enjoy :)
> 
> also in light of the new, unofficial ao3 app stealing people's work: i do not consent to having this be on any third party site or app. thank you.

It’s a breezy summer day in Lux Aurea when Janai realizes that constant military checkups are no longer necessary. It’d been one of her most rigorous duties as a General — armour, soldiers, patrols, bunk inspection and keeping the forges lit and weapons hot — so important, in fact, it had taken time before her sister had trusted her to oversee it alone.

The war has been over for six months now. With Katolis and Duren the two kingdoms most aligned with the Peace Effort, Janai had felt safe in ordering most of her troops to come back and help Lux Aurea rebuild. Others had stayed at the Breach to help reopen it. The young king of Katolis forges ahead a new world of peace, the brave Moonshadow girl captain of the new Dragonguard with her mage by her side.

Khessa’s monument and markers of all those who fell to the Dark Mage’s conquest finally finished and gleaming under the eternal sun of Lux Aurea.

Free time is not something Janai is accustomed to. For the past thirty-five years, if she wasn’t fighting in the war or training then she was thinking about doing so. She doesn’t know what to fill it with, beyond letters. Letters to the other elven leaders (Moonshadow settlements are particularly difficult to find) as Queen Zubeia has asked for her help in negotiating peace on this side of the border. Letters to the Breach, to General… to Amaya.

Something simmers low and warm and light in her chest, at the thought of Amaya. Janai isn’t quite sure why — even if she speculates, suspects, dreads, what the truth may be — but if she’s being perfectly honest, she tries not to think about it as much as possible. She is busy and has other things to focus on. Or at least, she used to.

Amaya is easy to think of. Easy to smile at, even if it’s just upon receiving a letter. The other woman keeps her notified of the goings on at the Breach, the restoration and building. Of letters Janai should be expecting from Amaya’s nephew, Ezran, and some of his political squabbles. Moments in the Pentarchy when it doesn’t hurt to have the Sunfire Queen throw her weight the tiniest bit more behind Katolis as a firm reminder to Evenere, Neolandia, and Del Bar that neither of their kingdoms are to be trifled with too heavily.

The young king of Katolis is a sweet boy, Janai knows, his older brother of similar calibre. Amaya is lucky to have them and they are lucky to have Amaya.

It’s been six months since her sister—the last of her family—passed and it is hardly any easier.

A headache, or maybe grief, threatens to overtake her, as she stands on one of the Inner Sanctum’s many balconies overlooking her golden city. She needs a distraction of some kind. Something productive. She wonders if Amaya has been struggling, when her duties die down for the day. Neither of them know much of peace and the younger generation like her nephews had not lived long enough to truly know a future with only war, before hope inspired them to step toward another path.

Perhaps it is time for her to find a new one too, beyond being queen.

“Kazi.”

The translator is in Lux Aurea’s high library when Janai approaches them from behind. They startle and straighten up, wheeling around. “Your Radiance,” they greet, bowing and saluting, “my apologies, I did not hear—”

“Yes,” Janai cuts them off. Then becomes awkward. She’s used to giving commands as a general, about war, not as queen, about people nearly as much. And she does want this to be a request. She knows that Kazi is busy, especially as more humans and elves must merge the language breach between their peoples. Kazi has been hard at work contributing to Queen Aanya’s project. “That is rather the point.”

Kazi’s eyebrows rise behind their circular spectacles. “Your Radiance?”

“Your…” Garlaf, why can Janai only remember the foolish name Kazi had given it, instead of its proper one? “Finguistics,” she settles, gritting her teeth. “How does it work?”

Kazi blinks. They take a tiny step forward. “You wish to learn Katolian Sign Language?”

“I…” Janai snaps her mouth shut. She’s won battles. She’s won a war. She should not be foolish and… hesitant, about this. She’s being silly. “Yes. It seems like a productive use of time.”

“Of course, Your Radiance,” Kazi says. Then pauses. “Er, would you like to begin right now?”

Janai smooths herself out internally. “Ideally,” she says, “but we can re-commune if I have interrupted a portion of your, ah, project.”

“I was looking to take a break soon anyway,” Kazi replies with a slight smile. “We may begin now if you wish.”

Something in her shoulders ease. This conversation was never a battle—at least not with Kazi, but with herself and her pride, perhaps—and she’s won it, now. “Yes. That would be my preference.”

Kazi fetches a scroll and then comes back to her by the windows and they each take a seat in a chair. Kazi flips open the book and she sees diagrams inside. “For you to practice on your own,” they explain. “It will take time to learn.”

Janai supposes she has nothing but time now. “That is alright,” she relents.

“You are not, by any chance, seeing the General soon, are you?” Kazi asks.

Janai starts. “General?”

“The human. Amaya.”

“No,” Janai says, a tad shortly. Maybe even sharply. “Why?”

“No reason,” Kazi says quickly, holding up their hands. “It will just be nice that you will be able to communicate, the next time she is in Lux Aurea.”

Janai settles. That warm feeling in her chest is back, but this time it’s comforting rather than constricting. “Yes,” she relents, easing. “I suppose it will.”

* * *

It’s been a long time since Amaya was able to go a party. She thinks, idly, that the last one she may have attended good and proper—away from Breach barracks and at the castle, for a party on this scale was a celebration for Ezran’s birth. It’s fitting, then, that this next one is Ezran’s celebration of the one year anniversary of the Last Battle. A year of peace, he says.

Amaya just wishes she knew what to do with it.

Other than, perhaps, staring at Janai. The Sunfire queen is in attendance, as a show of political goodwill, she supposes, and looks stunning in her high collared gown of gold. It’s sleek with sharp edges, leaving her arms bare, and matches the rigid lines of her markings perfectly. A few of her delegates are with her, and Janai doesn’t smile often, but when she does, she outshines the sun.

Amaya wishes too that she could be poetic more in person than just in her head. Because she and Janai are friends, she knows. You don’t go through everything that they had—trust and battle and loss—without becoming friends of some sort. They held hands in front of the Dragon Queen. They’ve exchanged letters, snippets of their personal lives amid political dealings. Favourite dishes and friends. Nor is this the first time they’ve seen each other since the end of the war. She’d been pleasantly surprised a few months ago, when Janai had visited the Breach for a checkup, at her fluidity with Katolian sign language. She’d seen them both Wandering through whatever peace is, neither of them well suited for it.

But Amaya has always been used to taking the first step, anyway.

So she marches over, purpose astride her steps, blue gown swishing around her until she reaches Janai. The queen looks up, pleasant surprise flashing in her eyes. “General,” she signs. Her few delegates disperse and Amaya tries not to read too much into it. If anything, relative privacy will make this easier.

Amaya inclines her head, smiling, and then signing quickly before she holds out her her hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Janai fumbles, then signs, “I… am not much of a dancer.”

It makes sense, Amaya thinks. Only Moon magic seems to rely much on dancing, and the Sunfire elves were always so military minded. All the more reason for a bit of fun. Janai is always especially pretty when she smiles. Amaya keeps her hand outstretched, beckoning her closer with a flick of her fingers. Playful, a little flirty. Reminiscent of the gesture they each did to one another, at the outpost battle what feels like a lifetime ago, even if it’s only a year and few weeks.

They’re both so changed now, and maybe not changed enough.

Janai hesitates and then takes her hand. Amaya holds it tight and guides her into a waltz. The music looks a marriage of strings, lutes and violins mostly, with some flutes. It must be pretty, from how Sarai had described music in the past to her—almost as pretty as the woman in her arms, Amaya thinks. They both laugh when they catch sight of Ezran giggling and dancing with Bait, the glow toad being gently swayed, and Callum and Rayla dancing better than Amaya has ever seen her nephew manage, with his two left feet.

Amaya enjoys dancing to an extent. When the music is soft a little slow, she sees other couples talking, but knows that’s not possible for her. It’s a little annoying sometimes, but she’s used to it.

And looking at Janai, who meets her gaze, eyes warm like firelight, she thinks she doesn’t mind at all. Just looking is enough.

Janai squeezes her hands once the dance is over. “Thank you, General.”

Part of Amaya wants to ask for one more, mostly to see if Janai would let her have it, but she’s also aware of the political implications at an event like this, with elven leaders and diplomats from the Pentarchy here in equal measure. One dance is innocent. Two is noticeable. And three indicates courtship, typically.

She and Janai are friends, Amaya knows. But she isn’t sure if they’re more. And if the answer is no, she isn’t sure she wants to find out, and let the fire in her chest die. At least, not yet.

So Amaya lets go (and she doesn’t).

* * *

_Dear Janai,_ she reads in the General’s tidy scrawl, one crisp autumn afternoon.

_Callum has his sight set on the Sun Arcanum next and is requesting to stay in Lux Aurea for the next few months while he looks to forge a connection. I would feel best if he stayed at your palace, as Rayla will be unable to be by his side the whole time, and while his Sky and Moon magic are fierce, I know that the elves of Lux Aurea are some of the most well trained in the world. If some took issue to him being there, it may be worrisome._

_I wish—and trust—for you to look after him in some capacity while he is there. I am sorry in advance if he gets into trouble on account of his curiosity. As his aunt, I can assure you it is an occupational hazard._

_Yours,_  
_Amaya_

So that is how Janai finds herself housing the Prince of Katolis in her palace. At sixteen he’s still skinny and bright and curious, but Janai can see Amaya in him. The gentle slope of his smile and mischievous streak. His daring, too, and bravery. He explains to her one night over dinner that he was never much of a swordfighter, but somehow Janai is not surprised. He seems like his aunt, in that way too: a shield. A protector and defender ever more than an attacker.

“My aunt really likes you,” Callum says on his last night in Lux Aurea. They’re sitting out together on one of the balconies. She’s grown fond of the kid. Sparred with him once in the courtyard with her sunforge blade. Steered him away from the Purification or the Light in his hopes of connecting to the Sun primal. In turn, he helped her learn even more sign language and dropped some hints about his aunt—favourite flower, that sort of thing—that Janai _definitely_ did not commit to memory, not at all.

Janai itches to ask how. Then finds herself a little perturbed at a boy less than half her age seemingly trying to give her relationship advice. “I know I was scared to put things out in the open with Rayla,” he continues, smiling a little at the mention of his girlfriend. “So she ended up making the first move, and even then I still messed up, but… It all worked out okay.” He catches Janai’s eye. “When something feels right, you should try to trust it. It can’t hurt to try.”

He slips off to bed soon after, leaving her rather flabberghasted. Janai bows her head as she sits under the stars, night slow and short in the golden city.

The boy may have a point, she begrudgingly admits. But what to do with it?

Callum is heading to the Breach in the morning to visit his aunt, before furthering to Katolis to see his brother. He’ll double back with his wings to make his way back to Rayla in Xadia, she knows. Flying is faster than almost any type of travel and he is talented at it.

So Janai pens a letter and hands it to him in the morning. “For your aunt,” she says, and he takes it with a kind hearted grin.

She’s nervous while she waits the next few days, knowing it will take a little while for Amaya to open it, longer for her reply to arrive. Nervous because Janai knows what Amaya will found written on it, when she does.

_Come to Lux Aurea. Please._

* * *

Amaya does. She shows up in her General’s outfit—old habits die hard—and with news of her kingdom. Soren, the slightly daft but well meaning boy they’d fought in battle with, looks out for Ezran as well as Amaya could have hoped. Callum passed on his merry way through the restored Breach and will be going back to Xadia in a week.

Janai only processes about half of all that Amaya says, though, because her brain fails to function exactly right when the general scoops her up in a bear hug upon greeting. Just when Janai thinks she knows all there is to know about heat, Amaya comes and proves her wrong.

“And how are you?” Amaya asks, fingers flexing as they walk through the golden courtyards. Janai is glad they are not discussing the twin-tailed inferno-tooth tiger in the room yet. Why did you ask me to come? and Why did you? in equal measure.

They pass under Khessa’s monument and Janai’s gaze drifts. “I am well,” she says, glad that Amaya cannot hear the sudden tightness in her voice. What would her sister think of this? Of Janai hesitantly courting a human? She knows what Khessa would think. She’d dismiss it outright, call her a fool. Forbade Amaya from standing where she is right now, where she very much deserves to be, because Janai wants her to be.

Wants her to be here with her.

Amaya’s grip is gentle when she takes her hand for a brief squeeze, before she lets go. “Come on,” she signs, lips curling. “Show me around. I did not get to see much of the city my first time here.”

Janai rolls her eyes in good nature. “That is because you were a prisoner,” she says, smiling.

“Of course,” Amaya says, cheekily, but Janai is not about to deny her request.

She shows her the balconies and courtyards, the great waterfalls outside of the Inner Sanctum as a day trip and they have a picnic beside the rushing blue. She shows her the throne room proper, hears the slight sigh of relief Amaya emits when she sees the Light is no longer there (not only because the Dark Mage had stolen it, but also because Janai has not had the heart to replace it; it was never one of her favourite practices).

Finally, they come across the Royal Tapestry Hall. Janai explains her family tree as they walk along the tapestries of gold and brown and red, lingering on her grandmother and her sister near the end.

“We have a similar place in Katolis,” Amaya explains when Janai looks at her. “Each royal family has a portrait made, and there is the Valley of Graves. That is where my sister rests.”

Janai turns more fully to face her. Amaya has mentioned her sister before—older by a few years, like Khessa; felled in battle, although Janai doesn’t know the details; someone Amaya misses every day—but never in anything but letters. Janai purses her lips. “Does it get easier?” she asks.

“Define easy,” Amaya nearly jokes.

Janai’s lips twitch. “I suppose it is like peace and war,” she muses, mostly to leave Amaya more to her thoughts, if she wishes to be. “It has been over a year now and I still struggle with it.”

“Better to struggle with peace than with war,” Amaya says wisely and Janai nods to give her a point. Amaya looks up at the tapestry of Khessa. “Was she a good queen?”

“Define good.” That does make Amaya smile now, even as Janai sobers. “My sister was,” she elaborates, looking up at the tapestry. “But she was also cruel. She could see the worth in humans.” Janai looks at Amaya. “She could not see the insurmountable worth in you.”

Pink stains Amaya’s cheeks, but for the first time, their held gaze feels steady. Like they both know exactly what is being communicated, and it is both exactly what they want. “Thank you,” Amaya says. “Your trust in those days—over Viren, over your troops—meant much to me.”

Janai wants to take her hand, but she has a feeling they’re not done speaking, yet.

Amaya turns away from the tapestry and Janai follows as they walk down the hall. “My sister was always far more suited for political life than I was, even if we were both warriors,” she explains.

“From what I’ve heard of your sister from you and your nephews, she was a warrior, same as you,” Janai says. “With honour.”

“She was. And it suited each of us. I was already a top general before she married the king. I was very glad it wasn’t me,” she says, smiling. “Obvious reasons notwithstanding, as Harrow was not my type, but… I never wanted to be queen,” Amaya admits.

“I hope in peacetimes you are not as opposed,” Janai says, signing before she can lose her nerve. She watches Amaya’s expression, the general caught off guard, before the gears grind behind her beautiful eyes, and comprehension breaks over her face, then, soft and bright as the dawn.

Amaya smiles the way she did years ago, when Janai took her hand in the Dragon Queen’s cave. “I suppose not,” she says, and then takes Janai’s hand again. This time they lace their fingers through, fingers fitting together like when Amaya took her hand to save her life.

They still don’t feel finished, now. It feels like a beginning.

Janai doesn’t plan on ever letting go.


End file.
